


Try, Try Again

by runningondreams



Category: Marvel Adventures (Comics), Marvel Adventures: Avengers
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-09-29 22:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17212391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningondreams/pseuds/runningondreams
Summary: Steve’s plans usually work out pretty well. This time, though? When all he really wants to do is ask Tony a very important question? Not so much.





	Try, Try Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cap iron man community](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=cap+iron+man+community).



> For the Cap-Iron-Man Community Gifts prompt: “Of course I’ll marry you, what kind of ridiculous question-”.  
> Set in the fluffiest possible universe, because why not.  
> Many thanks to laireshi for the beta!
> 
> * * *

Steve has it all planned out: a fancy dinner, a romantic atmosphere, a sharp suit, a ring. Granted, the fancy dinner is a catered fundraising event for a new science museum and he has to hunt down a few decorations and put in a few requests with the DJ to get even halfway to the kind of ambiance he’s looking for, but he’s trying to seize his chances where he can. The first time he’d tried this, with an actual restaurant meal and candles and everything, they’d spent half the night dodging reporters and the other half dodging Kang. 

Steve’s still not sure that wasn’t a deliberate sabotage attempt. Time travelers could be up to _anything_.

He manages to coax Tony out onto a balcony for a private moment. Not so very private, since the door is still made mostly of glass and there are a few people milling around in the courtyard below, but private enough that maybe they won’t be overheard.

He says, “I’ve been wanting to ask you something,” and he’s just reaching into his jacket pocket when Tony frowns and cocks his head to the side. 

“Do you hear that?”

“The music?” It’s not exactly what Steve wants, but at least it’s light and instrumental. It’s good enough.

“No, that sort of . . . grinding noise . . .” Tony trails off and then Steve can hear it too. A low, steady rumble, getting louder. Some of the people on the ground below them stop and start looking around.

“Do you think—” Tony starts, but he doesn’t get to finish the statement because without any further warning a hole opens up in the courtyard, paving bricks and potted trees and party-goers falling together with a grinding crash. The intercom squeals, the music interrupted by manic laughter and screams. Something glowing a bio-luminescent blue and green crawls out of the hole.

And that’s how, instead of proposing to Tony Stark, Steve ends up fighting subterranean monsters all night and ruining his best suit.

Still, he manages to keep track of the ring. He’ll get a chance to try again.

***

He carries the ring with him everywhere, just in case. He takes it to the gym when they play basketball, and keeps it in his pocket while they eat burgers in the park. He takes it to the beach and into space and half-way around the world for one mission and then another, and the moment never seems quite right. It’s too normal, or too weird, or too public, or they’re too tired to do more than lean together.

The next time he gets a good chance, he’s in uniform. It’s little tacky, probably, and he’s not sure about the messages it could send—he wants to marry Tony as _Steve Rogers_ , the man, not Captain America, public figure and superhero. But it’s late, they’ve won the day, and as they soar through the starry night together, heading home, he decides it’s appropriate, really. Is there a better setting than the mansion? Could he ask for a better backdrop than the city they love and the spread of the cosmos? Is there a better circumstance than the two of them, alone, comfortable and triumphant in their dual identities?

When Tony sets him on the mansion’s roof he’s determined. This is it. He pulls off his cowl, because that seems like a necessary gesture.

Tony flips up the faceplate. “Everything okay?” he asks. “You seem a little tense. Wanna catch a movie to wind down?”

Steve reaches for the belt pouch that holds the ring box. 

“Everything’s fine,” he says, “I just wanted to—” 

The ring box is gone. There are three separate pouches missing from his belt, in fact, but where the other two are simple things he can easily replace from the Avengers’ stores, the ring is a whole different investment. He’d spent ages picking it out. Tungsten carbide, to keep it undamaged no matter what trouble they got into, polished to a mirror-bright shine. A simple, thin band, so Tony could wear it comfortably in the Iron Man armor. And the engraving along the inside: _You gave me a home_. He’d hoped Tony would know the phrase meant more than the mansion and the team. That Tony _is_ his home now, more than anything else.

He double-checks. The ring is definitely gone. It could be anywhere. Somewhere out on the streets of New York. Lying on a rooftop. In someone else’s pocket. In another dimension. Anywhere.

“Cap?” Tony looks concerned.

“Nevermind.” Steve lets his hands fall to his sides, empty. The momentum’s gone and he can’t ask now. “Movie sounds good.”

***

The last time, he doesn’t even intend to ask. He’s spent the night in Tony’s rooms and when he wakes Tony’s already up, and already working too. He’s writing in marker on the window, line after line of equations and what looks like computer code taking shape between his hand and the light of dawn breaking over the city. His movements are quick and sure, despite the early hour and their late night of superheroing. Every once in a while he’ll turn away from the window and pick up a tablet or one of the jumbles of wire and metal that’s his newest project. Steve’s not entirely sure what they’re supposed to be when they’re finished. Something about microplastics in the ocean maybe.

He must make some noise, or shift the covers, because Tony looks over and smiles.

“Morning, Winghead.”

He bends over the bed and kisses Steve’s forehead, and then his nose and then his cheek.

“Love you,” Steve murmurs.

“Love you too.” One last kiss pressed to Steve’s hairline, and Tony pulls away. “There’s smoothie on the nightstand if you want something pre-workout,” he says, and goes back to his math.

Steve watches him work, admiring the pull of the muscles in Tony’s shoulders and the way the sun lights up the hairs on his arms as he moves back and forth across the wide panes of glass. Marveling at how completely Tony must trust him, to let him this close to his work, to putter around in his boxers and not even bother pulling a shirt over his scars.

Steve should get up, should stretch and dress and go for a jog. But there’s something perfect about this moment. The light, and the softness, and the utter contentment he feels. He could quite happily spend the rest of his life waking up to this, and he wants to.

“Hey, Tony?” His voice is still thick with sleep; he hasn’t even had a drink of water yet.

“Hm?”

“Do you want to get married?”

Tony stops halfway through writing an equals sign. Steve can’t quite make out his reflection in the glass.

“Is this a rhetorical question, or are you asking?”

And that’s reality rushing in. He’d wanted it to be _special_. He’d wanted to make a grand gesture, because Tony’s made so many for him. He hasn’t even replaced the ring yet. But the moment’s upon him now. Never let it be said that Steve Rogers backed down from a challenge.

He sits up, then slides to the edge of the bed and stands. Tony turns to face him, but Steve can’t read his expression. He feels woefully unprepared and naked in a way that has nothing to do with wearing only underwear. He licks his lips and fights the urge to cross his arms, and then the impulse to kneel even without a ring. He extends his left hand, instead.

“I’m asking,” he says. “Will you marry me?” He holds his breath, waiting for a reply.

Tony caps his marker and throws it away. It clatters when it lands, but Steve doesn’t turn to look. He can’t look away from Tony’s face.

“Yes.” Tony takes Steve’s hand and smiles, his eyes so bright and blue Steve knows he’ll never associate the shade with anything else again. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Steve lets out his breath on something that’s half relieved-sigh, half laugh. He tugs on their joined hands and Tony steps closer, close enough Steve can pull him into a hug, heartfelt and steadying.

“Thank you,” he says.

Tony laughs against him, the sound cheerful and only slightly muffled.

“Did you think I was going to say no? Really?”

“For a moment there, I wasn’t sure. It’s a nerve wracking experience.”

“Oh yeah?” Tony squirms out of the hug and takes Steve’s other hand too. “Let me try.”

He meets Steve’s eyes, calm and intent.

“Steve Rogers,” he says, serious as the start to any save-the-world speech. Steve’s stomach swoops like a roller coaster, even knowing what Tony’s going to say, even knowing the answer’s already given.

“Will you marry me?” Tony asks. 

Steve tightens his grip on Tony’s fingers and swallows hard. Something under his breastbone is filled to overflowing. There may be tears pricking at his eyes. He’s no longer sure why he thought the dinner and the suit and the ring were important. This is perfect because it’s _them_. He doesn’t need anything else.

“I will,” he says, and his voice sounds hoarse to his own ears.

Tony’s smile is radiant and infectious, and his kisses are as bright and warm as the sun on Steve’s skin. 

“I love you,” Steve tells him again. He wants to say it over and over, wants to feel the little flip-flop of exhilaration under his ribs again and again and again.

“I love you too,” Tony says. “I love you enough to kiss you with morning breath even, where has my life come to.”

“Good places.”

“Mhm.” Tony kisses him again. “Yeah. Good places.” He turns in Steve’s embrace and holds out their linked left hands, outlined against the morning light.

“You know, if you wanted to go for a run, I could probably get rings made by the time you’re back. What do you think?”

Steve buries his face in Tony’s shoulder and laughs.

Yeah.

Perfect.


End file.
